


Royal Business

by sunbreaksdown



Category: Adventure Time
Genre: F/F, Pre-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-05
Updated: 2012-03-05
Packaged: 2017-11-01 12:45:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/356941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunbreaksdown/pseuds/sunbreaksdown
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At the Grand Meeting of Ooo Royalty, Marceline notices a face she hasn't seen before.</p>
<p>*</p>
<p>(When the meeting comes to an end and all parties are exhausted by the number of back-handed compliments given out, Marceline glances at an open window, wondering if now's the time to make herself scarce. There are some advantages to staying, not the least of which revolves around making acquaintances with the Candy Kingdom's Princess; and when said Princess makes her way over her, Marceline supposes that the decision's been made for her. )</p>
            </blockquote>





	Royal Business

     The first time she notices the delegate from the Candy Kingdom, Marceline is nine-hundred and ninety-eight years old.

     The Princess is sixteen.

     Marceline spends the majority of the Grand Meeting of Ooo Royalty floating a little higher than usual in her seat, trying to get a good look at what she assumes is fresh meat. Because surely she would've noticed someone like that before, all bright pink and unmistakably bubbly under the surface, no matter how straight she sits, back rigid, like the tall, sturdy seat she's been assigned isn't uncomfortable at all. It's been a while since Marceline attended one of these meetings herself; she sends representatives, more often than not, and the other factions of Ooo learnt to stop demanding her presence centuries ago. For the last few years, she's been busy with _things_. Travelling across the land and stopping by at the underworld to check that things are running smoothly isn't something that should be rushed, and with all the drifting she's been doing lately, she's surprised that she's managed to make it to the meeting at all.

     But now that she's there, she might as well make the most of it. She remembers when the King and Queen of the Candy Kingdom would attend the meetings, and then just the King, and she remembers generations upon generations of sticky-pink Candy royalty before that; but if the Princess has ever been there before, she's always lingered outside of Marceline's general sphere of being so much as able to care. Now, though, she's certainly worth a second glance. She's just about the same shape as Marceline, long-limbed and in possession of almost as much hair, and from what Marceline knows of her predecessors, she's not about to scuttle around on all fours like a Hotdog Princess.

     Interesting.

     It's too bad that she's probably as vapid as anything, all sugar and sparkles, wishing nothing but goodwill and peace on all the other nations. She's been born or moulded or otherwise thrust into her role in life, and Marceline doesn't doubt that someone else is pulling the strings. It's always the same with these pretty princesses, and Marceline's dealt with more than a few in her time. The entirety of the meeting is going to go in one ear and then out the other, and then the Candy Kingdom will be left to defend for itself, citizens rotting in the rain as the Princess sits confounded on her comfy throne.

     Marceline snerks, interrupting the Lumpy Space King's gripping tirade about the expansion of entrances into Lumpy Space. She is _such_ a good judge of character.

     Waving a hand, Marceline is graceful enough to tell the others to continue with the meeting, far from apologetic for the interruption, and this has the added bonus of causing the Princess to look up at her. She's been doing her best to avoid making eye contact all evening, and Marceline decides that there's nothing for it but to make official business a little more interesting by toying with her. She flicks out her flat, forked tongue, causes the pink of the Princess' cheeks to become a little darker, and then leans back in her seat, boots up on the table.

     “I say we kill them all,” Marceline nonchalantly chimes in after a while, when somebody broaches the topic of candy. It's not the Princess, though she's spent the last half an hour or so balling her hands into determined, adorable little balls and opening her mouth to speak and saying nothing; this has to be her first Grand Meeting. She's floundering and she knows it. “I mean, candy's candy, right? Who's to say that the candy which doesn't talk doesn't have feelings too? Come on, even the Candy People don't have a problem eating that, and we all know they're a prime example of teeth-rotting goodness. The candy cane people with the red stripes taste _so_ good. Calling it illegal just isn't right.”

     It's all to provoke the Princess, of course. Marceline doesn't have much of a pertinent desire to legalise the killing and eating of Candy People, considering that she's never faced a problem draining the colour right out of anything.

     The Princess' fists come down on the tabletop, shakily, and her first mistake is standing in order to make her point be heard. It shows that she's taking the bait, that she's getting all riled up. She needs to sit back down and act as if it's all one big joke to her; as if the Candy Kingdom is too sturdy to even consider such things being remotely plausible.

     “Actually, many studies – my studies – have shown that there's a, ah,” the Princess begins, lips parted as she tries desperately to think of what she has to say, like she's relied on cue cards thus far in life. “There's a remarkable difference in the structure between talking, living candy, and the candy we can produce. To suggest that it has feelings is as likely as a vampire having a reflection, and—”

     The Princess's breath catches in her throat when she references vampires and her point becomes rambling and bumbling along the way, but Marceline doesn't care. The important part here is that the Princess is actually talking back to her, is trying to stand her ground, and Marceline can tell it isn't easy for her. She can tell that she has a solid point in there somewhere, too, and she's backing her words up with real, verifiable facts, not the usual political nonsense that's spilled during these things. She's standing up for her people because she believes in protecting them.

     Not bad. Not bad at all.

     “Okay, okay,” Marceline says when the Princess stares her down because she can't look away, waiting for an answer, “I guess my undead army won't march on the Candy Kingdom for another full year.”

     The Princess sits back down, trying not to smile. It's a small victory, and Marceline's glad she's been able to give it to her.

     When the meeting winds down and things finally become less formal, Marceline makes a quick exit. She leaves with a wave, but doesn't even ask the Princess her name, or try to introduce herself.

     There's always next year.

*

     And what a difference a year makes.

     The Princess is sat back in her seat, talking away, smile on her face. She's smug without being tangibly patronising, and Marceline finds herself actually listening to her. Beyond that, she's actually agreeing with what she has to say, because she's no longer speaking as if from a script. She's certainly learnt what it is she needs to get across, but she really understands what she's getting at, really grasps the individual concepts. From what Marceline's heard, the Candy Kingdom has really flourished this past year, putting it in a position to dictate all kinds of new agreements.

     The Princess has definitely been pulling her weight. Marceline can't believe that she nearly missed the meeting, caught up in her own business as she was. Luckily, things had only been under way for no more than half an hour when she'd finally drifted in, and people tended to learn when their complaints weren't appreciated after a few zombie raids. And so Marceline floats in her seat as the Princess takes on challenge after challenge from Ooo royalty as if she's been a figurehead for as long as Marceline's been playing the bass, quietly amused and captivated and just a little bit hungry.

     When the meeting comes to an end and all parties are exhausted by the number of back-handed compliments given out, Marceline glances at an open window, wondering if now's the time to make herself scarce. There are some advantages to staying, not the least of which revolves around making acquaintances with the Candy Kingdom's Princess; and when said Princess makes her way over her, Marceline supposes that the decision's been made for her.

     With a strawberry in one hand, Marceline watches out of the corner of her eye with mild disinterest as the Princess makes some sort of formal gesture. It's somewhere between a curtsey and a nod, neither too subservient nor too curt, and when the fanfare's over and done with, Marceline raises one hand in greeting.

     “Yo,” she says, fang pricking the strawberry. She drains the colour right out, because she knows that the Princess won't be able to help but watch the spectacle, and then feel bad for staring.

     Gosh, Marceline hates these things. She never knows what to talk about anyone with, because apparently foetid flesh hanging from recently reanimated bones isn't the best conversation starter. She gives a little shrug when the Princess busies herself with not seeming flustered when she realises she's staring, but then feels bad for being so blunt. Because there's something different about the Princess, now that they're not discussing politics and squabbling over boarders and territories that nobody wants to change. Not really. They just have to give the pretence of possessing a great enough military force to take whatever they like.

     “I'm Marceline,” she says, deciding to spare the poor girl. “Marceline the Vampire Queen.”

     She puts a little cool emphasis on the word _Queen_ , because even if she's going easy on the Pretty Pink Princess, she still needs to know that she's wildly outranked.

     “Princess Bubblegum,” the Princess says, and really, that is just _perfect_. There's a silence that's awkward on Princess Bubblegum's part and gratifying on Marceline's, and for some reason, she says, “Bonnibel Bubblegum,” like rank and status shouldn't matter here. Marceline gets the feeling she doesn't exactly go around doling her name out like that too often.

     “Bonnie, huh?” Marceline asks, and Princess Bubblegum goes to speak, like she's about to instinctively say _no, Bonnibel_ , before realising that Marceline's very much shortened her name like that on purpose. Not through mishearing her. “That's cute, for a Candy Person.”

     And the Princess doesn't seem sure of how to take this. She begins with a “Well, I—” but quickly branches off, sending the conversation elsewhere. They begin talking about their respective monarchies and kingdoms, but not to make a show of power through boasting, like throughout the meeting. There's no bravado, which the Princess may well have been employing a little too brashly earlier; rather, it feels a lot like getting to know somebody for the first time. Marceline likes it, as tedious as some of the questions and tangents are, because even the most inane conversation can entertain her from time to time, and most of the people she talks to nowadays have known far too much about her for hundreds of years.

     The Princess is a curious creature, wanting to know all about vampires, the undead, and just _how_ Marceline manages to float like that. She's certainly got an inquisitive mind. Before Marceline knows it, Princess Bubblegum is talking about all manner of innovations and inventions that she's brought to light recently, and if she's not exaggerating, which Marceline doesn't think she is, then it's impressive.

     For a mortal, anyway.

     Marceline doesn't even get the chance to become bored of the topic of science. Princess Bubblegum is happy enough to listen to her talk about her music, even if she does think of the bass in terms of equations, not chords, and Marceline completely forgets that she was in the process of draining the entire bowl of strawberries into monochrome submission when their host informs them that the Grand Meeting is over for yet another year.

     Princess Bubblegum frowns, initially, disappointed by the announcement, but then smiles for appearance's sake. Marceline playfully knocks a hand against Bubblegum's shoulder, and tells her she doesn't have to do that on her behalf.

     “I'll see you next year, Princess,” Marceline says, pulling her oversized sun hat back on as she makes a direct line towards the open window. The Princess, hands clasped together in front of her, rocks forward on the balls of her feet, and says that she certainly hopes so.

     Marceline laughs to herself, shaking her head as she floats out into the late evening sun. For some reason, it's good to know that she can be wrong about a person, even after nine-hundred and ninety-nine years of dealing with them.

*

     At some point Marceline can't quite place, a year suddenly becomes a very long time.

    Three months have been and gone since the last Grand Meeting, and there she is, making her way through the streets of the Candy Kingdom. It's been a while since she was last there. Too long, even. Everything's different, and though it's probably for the best, she can no longer discern one street from another. The whole layout of the main city has changed, and not even the street names remain the same.

     It's a good thing that the castle stands out from a distance. Marceline travels as a bat, just in case a poor, unsuspecting Candy Person out for an evening stroll looks up and gets a fright. It's always best to go undetected, and she wouldn't want anyone whispering about vampires being spotted in the Candy Kingdom if she promptly decides that this is a bad idea and bails out.

     Honestly, Marceline doesn't really know why she's there. But if there's anything she's learnt from what nearly amounts to a millennium, it's to go with her gut, and remember that hesitation isn't a luxury she should afford herself when mortals come into the matter. She's thought about the Princess every now and again, ever since the first Grand Meeting they were both deemed as equals at, but now it's got to the point where it's like having a song stuck in her head. Marceline's always been of the opinion that the best way to get a song out of someone's head is to indulge in the offending music itself, and so up she goes, flapping her wings to get to what _must_ be the Princess's bedroom.

     (She's tried writing her own song on the matter, once or twice, but upbeat tunes have never been her forté.)

     “Hey, Princess,” she calls out with a bit of a screech, and then cements the _going through with it_ part of her plan in reality, there and then. “Princess!”

     Marceline doesn't think she's at the wrong window for a moment. Those curtains are just too fancy. Surely enough, the Princess pokes her head out, ever curious, and it strikes her as incredible, just how quickly mortals change at this age. She's lost in her own thoughts for a moment, and when the Princess just tilts her head to the side, confused, she thinks _Oh, right_ , and pops back into her regular form. She was, perhaps, saving the transformation process for Princess Bubblegum to see. Because she's interested in that sort of thing, of course; Marceline doesn't _need_ to show off for anybody.

     “Long time no see, Bonnie,” Marceline says, like they've happened to run into each other on the street, and Bubblegum's lips tug into a smile when she calls her _Bonnie._

     “Marceline—” Princess Bubblegum replies. Not Queen Marceline, because if Marceline's already deemed it appropriate to throw nicknames around, then titles can only come off as sounding stiff and formal. She's happy to see her, that much is clear, but she doesn't seem any less confused. “What are you doing here?”

     “Oh, you know,” Marceline says, twisting her wrists in the air and pointing vaguely in a random direction. No, idiot, she thinks, she doesn't know; that's why she's asking! “I was in the area, attending to royal business, and I thought I'd drop in on an ally. Because my skeleton horde hasn't razed your kingdom to the ground, and all that super... friendly stuff.”

     “I see,” Bubblegum says, elbows on the windowsill as she leans forward a little. Marceline stretches out, hums to herself, and then drifts with the breeze towards the window, perching on the ledge.

     “'kay, so get this. This guy I used to jam with three or four centuries ago recently got himself resurrected – Death lost a bet – and somehow ended up hooking up with my old drummer. Long story short, they are _amazing_ together and I'm a little jealous, but—” Marceline pauses on the _but_ , making sure she has Bubblegum's attention, because this is what it's all been building up to. “But I just so happen to have a couple of tickets to their gig tonight, and since I was floating past the Candy Kingdom...”

     Princess Bubblegum watches as Marceline pulls two tickets from her back pocket, as if they're cards she's about to do a trick with, and doesn't seem to realise that she's indirectly been asked something. She doesn't say anything until Marceline waves the tickets right in front of her face, eyebrows raised as if to say _Weeeell?_

     “Oh. _Oh_. You want me to go to a concert with you?” Bubblegum asks, a little incredulous, and just as Marceline's sure she's going to say no, she hurries to add on, “I'm sorry. I have so many royal duties to attend to in the morning, and if I don't get at least eight hour's sleep, well, let's just say that my behaviour isn't very becoming of a princess.”

     Marceline doesn't think participating in so much scientific experimentation is very becoming of a princess either, and she's heard rumours across Ooo of Bubblegum having taken down an assassin or two targeting her lately. She also doesn't think Princess Bubblegum's been taking enough time for herself lately; it's no wonder she became adept at her role so quickly. She's been working herself to her bones. Candy-bones. 

     Floating back out into the air, Marceline tucks the tickets back into her jeans, smiling down at Bubblegum. Now that she's decided this is for the Princess's own good, it's so much easier to approach this with the exact amount of confidence the situation calls for. She holds a hand out for Bubblegum to take, and drifts a little further away. Just to make sure she knows she isn't going to hang around there forever.

     They don't want to be late to the concert.

     “It's just for a night, Bonnie! And besides, we're all royalty here. This is royal business.”

     Princess Bubblegum looks at her room behind her, and then back to Marceline, but doesn't manage to maintain eye contact. She glances to the side, lips parting ever so slightly where she's considering the situation very, very carefully. And then, finally, she lets what she wants overthrow any imagined pros or cons, and reaches out for Marceline's hand.

     “Well, if it's just for a night,” she says.

     Marceline smiles, really smiles, because Princess Bubblegum's hand is just about as soft and warm as it looks, and she doesn't seem to mind a bit how cold Marceline's skin has always been.

     “I'll have you back before sunrise,” Marceline says, pulling Bubblegum off the window ledge and catching hold of her before she has time to gasp, “Promise.”


End file.
